


Afterlife

by urbaninja



Series: Everyone Lives [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1544333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urbaninja/pseuds/urbaninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bullet wasn't as fatal as it ought to have been, and now York is left to drift.</p><p>Part of Everyone Lives. Taking place right after Out of Mind</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterlife

_I’ve gotta know… Can we work it out?_  
 _If we scream and shout ’till we work it out_  
 _Can we just work it out?_  
 _Scream and shout ’till we work it out_

\--

York isn’t dead.

He’s regained consciousness, which is a bit odd when he considers that by all rights he should be dead. He has a bullet in a place that is generally considered fatal, but he’s not dead. While he’s not a particularly religious guy, York proceeds to thank every god and deity he can think of and tries to sit up.

“I would not advise that, York. You are still quite injured.”

“Hey, D. Glad to hear your voice,” He manages weakly, after a cough. He looks over to see the green AI hovering above him and smiles as best he can.

“You also should not try to speak. While I have activated the healing unit, you were still very close to death.”

“Yeah, I kinda noticed. What happened?”

“You were shot by Agent Wyoming. Agent Texas attempted to avenge you with my help. However, after learning something, she knocking Agent Wyoming out and proceeded to continue on to her next location. She believes you to be dead.”

“And Wyoming?”

“I am not sure. However, I am detecting movement that suggests he might be recovering.”

Indeed, a few moments later, Wyoming stirred and sat up, looking like hell. His helmet’s been pulled off, and he’s been roughed up, to put it politely. He looks around a bit, before focusing on Delta.

“I’m going to guess you’re not as dead as I assumed you were,” he says, surprisingly jovially.

“Still kicking. You were a hair off from actually killing me.”

“Mores the pity,” Wyoming replied, “I’ll try to be more accurate next time.”

“You always say that,” York quipped, trying to laugh but stopping due to a sharp pain. “You gonna do something about this?”

“What? You don’t want a souvenir of the time we spent together.”

“I’d prefer something cheesy to a bullet in my side, to be honest.”

“York, please try to stay down,” Delta said, as York tried once again to pull himself into a sitting position. Wyoming, in the meantime, had managed to stand and retrieve his helmet and weapons, before coming over to regard York curiously. 

“So you gonna do something or not?” he asked, pulling off his helmet.

“I’m a bit confused as to why. I’m not in the habit of treating the people I’ve shot. That wasn’t exactly friendly fire, York.” 

“I know, but you also gain nothing by killing me. Last I checked, I don’t have much of a bounty, and I doubt you have any interest in contacting Freelancer.”

Wyoming paused, as if considering the reasons before shaking his head.

“Facts though they are, those aren’t reasons for keeping you alive, mate.”

“Then do it ‘cause I’m pretty.”

“That’s even less of a reason.”

The wind whistled as the two stared at each other in silence. It lasted a good two minutes. 

“Would you do it out of what little goodness you have left in your heart?”

Wyoming seemed to consider the offer again.

“I’ll settle,” he said finally, “for a colossal favor.”

“You caused this problem.”

“And I’ll be solving it for you rather than leaving you to die. Those are my terms.”

York sighed, and looked at Delta, as if expecting advice.

“Considering I will not be of much help to you, and it would be difficult to remove the bullet ourselves, I believe we may have to take his offer, York. I prefer it to the alternative.”

“Then it’s settled,” Wyoming replied, kneeling down. 

He moved York’s armour, sniffing distastefully at the wound, before removing his own in order to provide a bit more mobility. There was a medkit inside the base with the tools needed.

“Hey York?”

“Yeah?”

“Knock knock.”

“Reg, now’s really not the time—“

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” York sighed.

“Banana.”

“Banana who?”

“Knock knock”

“Who’s there?”

“Banana.”

“Banana who?”

“Knock knock”

“Who’s there?”

“Banana.”

“Banan-OW!”

Before York could finish the answer, Wyoming pulled the bullet out. York’s hand flew to his side but Delta had already activated the healing unit. 

**  
York still isn’t dead.

The sun is setting as he opens his eyes and tries to sit up. Delta flashes in front of him, brightly.

“York, please stay down. The effects of the healing unit have not worn off yet.”

“What happened?”

“I did what I asked,” Wyoming replied with a shrug, placing the bullet in York’s hand. “There, the souvenir. I assume you’ll be fine from here so I’ll be off.”

“Just like that, huh?”

“I’ve no further obligations to you York, rather you have one to me. And I’ve spent enough time in your company already.”

York rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Look Reg, thanks. I’ll pay you back next time I run into you or something.” There’s a sense of disbelief in his voice, like he doesn’t think that’s going to happen.

“Until then, York. Believe me, we aren’t that lucky that we won’t see each other again.” 

The words hang in the air as Wyoming is suddenly teleported away. 

**

He’s on his own again and life resumes. 

There’s a bit more freedom now. Everyone thinks he’s dead so he doesn’t really have to worry about Freelancer chasing him. He’s still cautious but he can stay around a town for longer now, work a bit, get some money so that he can eat and live, even if it’s not much of a life.

And so he drifts. 

There are times when he thinks he sees someone he knows. He thought he saw North standing in line for groceries, Wash walking down the street with a dog, CT talking earnestly with someone at a coffee shop. He’s reluctant to reveal himself, but once he gets closer he realizes he’s wrong and speeds past. 

Delta doesn’t say anything, merely does his best to comfort York.

**

_Afterlife. I think I saw what happens next_  
 _Oh, it was just a glimpse of you, like looking through a window_  
 _Or a shallow sea_  
 _Could you see me?_

**

And then York sees her. 

It’s a fleeting glimpse but it’s enough and he’s turned on his heel chasing after her. 

He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t but he couldn’t let her go this time. Not without saying anything.

He shoves his way through the crowds, following her down to the subway platform, trying to keep that streak of red in view, loosing her briefly until he catches it again getting onto the train.

York calls out for her as the doors close and the train pulls away.

He swears she turns back to look.

**

He tries to track her down, but fails and can only go back to drifting. But each town is always met with a frantic search for clues, something suggests that she might have passed by, been in the area. 

After three towns bring up nothing, he debates giving up again. Maybe he’ll have to leave it up to chance. 

**

He’s between towns when they meet.

York sees Maine first, and after Delta confirms it, calls out to him. How long has it been since he’s seen Maine anyway?

The moment he does, York regrets it. 

Something’s not right. Maine looks up at him and then starts over, slowly at first, and then faster, almost like a predator stalking his prey. York turns to run but Maine’s too fast and suddenly he’s fighting for his life. He tries briefly to reason with the other freelancer as Delta tries to talk to Sigma, but that ends when Maine’s hand clamps around his neck and raises him off the ground. 

There’s pain and shouting and he thinks he sees Wash running to the rescue with North? Or is it South? He tries to say something but instead the ground comes up to meet him quickly and he doesn’t get a chance.

**

For the third time, York isn’t dead.

He’s on his back looking up at the sky. He thinks he should hear birds or wind but they’re faint compared to the silence ringing in his ears. He waits for the familiar green flash of his AI and Delta’s calm voice telling him not to sit up too quickly because of the healing unit. 

But Delta’s not there. 

The thought is an unbearable one. After all they’d been through together, Delta can’t be gone just like that. For the first time in a long time York feels anger. He hates Maine, hates what he’s become and wants nothing more than to track him down and take back his AI and he starts to stand to go do that no matter how woozy he is and then he sees Wash.

His rage fades as he runs over to check on his friend. Wash is hurt, badly. As much as he wants to go after Maine, there’s a quiet voice in his head now, that is not unlike Delta telling him that Maine’s long gone and that he should help Wash. York gives him his healing unit but doubts that it’ll be enough. 

“Hey, Wash, wake up. Can you hear me?” he says, desperately. Wash makes a non-committal noise but does not wake up. York sits, trying to make a decision. He’s not going to let Wash die here. 

“Sorry about this, buddy,” he says, and activates Wash’s recovery beacon. 

He waits until he can hear the sound of a pelican before taking off as fast as he can. He doesn’t want to be around when the recovery team shows up. 

As much as it pains him to run.

**

Drifting isn’t as fun anymore.

He keeps on the move, doesn’t engage in friendly banter with people in bars or on the street. Doesn’t look for Carolina or Maine. York just drifts.

He feels lost. 

And for the first time in a long time, scared. Delta isn’t there to give him direction. And even that shadowy voice of logic has faded. 

There’s just silence. 

And loneliness. 

And York doesn’t know what to do.

**

He stumbles into the next town late at night. It’s occurred to him that he hasn’t eaten all day (or several days. It’s hard to tell), nor does he have any money to pay for a meal. He can’t recall the last time he’s been this low.

He looks at one of the houses, which is dark and can’t believe he’s actually considering what he’s about to do. But he needs something to eat and hopefully he still has enough skills to get in and out before anyone notices. All he needs is a slice of bread really. 

Getting in is easy enough, and thankfully the back door opens onto the kitchen like he’d hoped. All he needs to do now is raid the fridge and leave. He does his best to move quietly in his armour, and slowly opens the fridge door, almost blinded by the light. It’s not a very well stocked fridge and he hesitates in deciding what to take. The hesitation is long enough that a shadow forms behind him and there’s a click and York turns around to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

There’s a brief silence and a prophecy that was spoken long ago comes true.

“Well I have to admit this is not how I imagined our next meeting to go,” Wyoming says, his voice very matter of fact, as if he was almost expecting York.

“Wyoming?” York finally gets out after a few minutes of fighting through disbelief and getting his voice to work (when was the last time he’d spoken to anyone?). He could have sworn he saw a KIA by his name.

“Reggie, what’s going on?” comes another familiar voice, before it’s owner is yelling at Wyoming to put the gun down.

**

When York made the decision to rob the house, he hadn’t expected to be sitting on the couch staring at his three former teammates. Granted, their expressions, Florida and 479er’s at least, seem just as surprised. 

They fill each other in. Or at least York tries to. He gets up to where he met Maine before the exhaustion and the pain and everything catches up with him. His voice catches but before he breaks down he feels the weight of Florida’s hand on his shoulder and it helps. Florida holds him steady for a while.

479er’s expression is unreadable as a look passes between her, Florida, and Wyoming. Finally, she sighs.

“There’s an extra bed here, York. You can stay as long as you like.”

**

Florida makes him eat and York doesn’t really object. 

It’s not much. Just some soup and some bread but on an empty stomach it’s more than enough. 

“Feel better?” Florida asks. York nods.

“Yeah. Thanks. God, I can’t believe I got that bad.”

“Well, you’re already starting to look like yourself again,” Florida replies, sliding into an easy grin before his expression changes. “Now’s…probably not the best time to tell you, but…I saw Carolina. She’s alive.”

“I know. I saw her to. I tried to look for her but, you know. Stuff happened.”

Florida nods. “I’m still tracking everyone else down, so I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“I’d appreciate that,” York says as he finishes off his soup. And maybe he’ll help, if he stick around for a few days.

**

479er shoves some fatigues into his arms and points in him the direction of the bathroom. 

“They belong to Wyoming but they’re clean and he’s not awake to object. Your room’s just down the hall. I do enough laundry that I don’t need you getting everything messed up,” she snaps, but there’s a layer of affection there. 

“Roger that, Niner,” York says. He’s amazed at how quickly the weight’s come off his shoulders. How quickly he wants to rely on these people again. 

“You can stay as long as you want, but if you do, you gotta work for it. I’ve got enough freeloaders already. I’m going to bed. Florida’s in the living room if you need him.”

York nods, and enters the bathroom. Even though it’s late, he has a long shower, scrubbing himself clean. He even takes the time to shave and emerges from the bathroom feeling refreshed. He feels like himself for the first time in what is probably years.

He climbs into the bed, savoring the feeling of mattress, blanket and pillow, and wishing that Delta were here with him. But even so, as his head hits the pillow and he drifts off, York thinks that maybe, just maybe, things will be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics from [Afterlife](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r75BFcH4u2k) by Arcade Fire


End file.
